


The Aperture Science Mind-Body Fulfillment Program

by hell_swan



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Trans Female Character, both of them are going to stumble their way towards it, but it's getting there, chell is a huge gay trans, glados is an emotionally constipated asshole, neither of them are particularly good at being people, not gay yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 08:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17220728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hell_swan/pseuds/hell_swan
Summary: In which GLaDOS has heard of and quickly disregarded begging for forgiveness.





	The Aperture Science Mind-Body Fulfillment Program

  _"The catastrophes of my skin are inscribed on your hands."_

 

* * *

 

Chell isn't stupid. 

She knows this, even if she can't remember much else of her life before becoming a glorified lab rat. Her intelligence is in her hands, in her legs, in the way her eyes can pick over a test track and solve it before she fires a single portal. Visualization and execution, seeing how things  _are_  and how they  _could_   _be_  have always been her strong suit (she thinks.) It's how she's known that something is  _off_ , ever since she was woken up the second time. The threat of death via acid and bullets and an incompetent core had stopped Chell from examining it too closely, but underneath uncomfortably blue skies and with not a single camera in sight, she could spare the effort for introspection.

She's not stupid, and she knows that how she went into Aperture's cryo isn't how she came out of it.

It was the scars that caught her attention first, before the curves and the softness. Chell kept a meticulous catalog of her injuries, most of them the work of GLaDOS and the first tests. Laser burns, bullet wounds, and bruises galore; she remembers earning each one with uncomfortable clarity, every misstep accompanied by GLaDOS mocking her. But there are some that Chell can't pin to a memory, ones that look more like the surgical scars on her knees - ones from procedures that she had only read about, before Aperture. To have the evidence of them on her body is overwhelming, and once things had  _clicked_ , Chell spent an hour in an abandoned farmhouse crying and  _looking_.

The memory of that hour is what keeps Chell from storming the castle properly, because while none of the changes are  _unwelcome_ , they were  _unasked_  for. Leave it to GLaDOS to disregard the small matter of bodily autonomy in pursuit of - whatever her goals were, doing this for Chell.

But while that train of thought makes Chell sigh and pace and glare at the sun like it's  _her_ optic, itdoesn't fully explain why she's back in front of the shed. The Companion Cube is here too, and Chell gives it a friendly nod that it doesn't return. It's covered in a fine layer of dirt, the toll of freedom outside the kingdom of Aperture. It looks unruffled, though, as if the queen below isn't fully capable of murdering them both where they stand. Chell would be willing to bet her last ration on their haunting of the border  _at least_ being noticed. Maybe ignored or shoved down the priority list, but definitely noticed. 

All she has to do to test that wager is knock on the door.

Easier said than done, with the summer heat beating down on her neck and sweat running in a stream down her back. Uncomfortable was better than dead, and Chell doesn't think GLaDOS is someone who mellows with a thing so insignificant as  _time._  No, she's down there testing and plotting and scheming, she's sure of it. Probably using a small amount of her attention on imagining Chell's reaction when she first realized what  _different_ meant, in the middle of the wilderness and in the context of her body and its new configuration. If nothing else, the guarantee that she'd cry would cheer GLaDOS up. That the tears were happy, after the shock wore off, is Chell's secret to keep.

As is the trepidatious exploration carried out in front of a filthy but serviceable mirror.

The thing is, though, after the shock and the happiness and some anger - more than some, if she was being honest with herself - Chell's thoughts turned to  _her_. To what she knew and what she'd done and, well.

It's the other half of why she's wilting under the sun and hoping the Companion Cube will tell her what to do. It's just as stoic as ever, and Chell kicks at the ground, eyeing the shed like it's two seconds away from exploding. This hesitance rankles her, makes something  _twist_  low in her guts. She managed to get here over the course of a week, waking up with the sun and moving through the earliest hours of the night, determined to see  _her_  again. Now, three years after being summarily booted out of Aperture, there's a few feet separating Chell from a direct route to the facility, and she's - she's  _scared_. Not of being killed, because that wore off after the third turret ambush, but of being ignored. Or even worse, somehow, of being mocked.

Chell bites her lower lip and fidgets, hands full of the flannel tied around her waist. She'd abandoned her much abused jumpsuit for actual clothes after a couple of months on the surface, trading for what she couldn't scavenge. The softness of the sleeves against the pads of Chell's fingers is a comfort, and she needs it. Even the possibility of the usual barrage of insults being aimed at this is enough to make her eyes sting, the twisting in her gut taking a slow step towards actual nausea. It's the one thing  _she_  never touched when they threw their wills at one another, test subject versus queen; it was, in all likelihood, the only line she never let herself cross. Chell isn't interested in learning that was only because she'd never said anything about it.

A bird caws off in the distance, nearer to the treeline, and Chell squares her shoulders. Even  _if_  that happens, she still needs to see  _her_  one last time. It's a compulsion, a persistent tug in her mind that she can't ignore anymore. The Companion Cube watches, cheerfully mute and supportive all the same, as Chell takes one step, then two, determination washing over her face and drowning the fear. It'll come back, because it always does, but this is just another test to overcome; another obstacle  _she_  set down, watching and waiting to see if this was the one that would finally best her.

That said, Chell still gets whacked by the shed door when it springs open, batting her to the side with ease. A soft  _whoosh_  drifts out from the doorway, and then a familiar digitized voice follows, saying "of the two of us, only I have the capability to wait forever. So, with that understood, please get up off the ground and proceed into the elevator, as it will save precious minutes of your miserable lifespan that would otherwise be spent sweating like a disgusting animal on my doorstep."

Well, Chell reflects, at least that means she's not being ignored, which has to be worth at least half the ration she'd bet in the first place. Maybe the Companion Cube will have some mercy and let her keep the whole thing.

The ride down is comforting, in its own way. The turrets that sent Chell off before are gone, the areas where they once stood shrouded in darkness. All she can do is rock back and forth on her heels, eyes closed for want of anything to see, as the gentle hum of the car carries her further and further into Aperture. She's done the hard part, and aside from what's definitely going to be a bruise on her ribs, got through it unscathed. All that's left is a confrontation with  _her_ , and if Chell isn't qualified for that, then no one is. It'll be fine. It has to be fine.

_Famous last words_ , she thinks, only just resisting the urge to smirk.

The elevator breaks into Aperture - into its snippy, frustrating, obsessive heart - with a whisper of sliding metal. It settles down in front of  _her_ chassis and the door slides open, the facility's familiar, recycled air rushing in to fill the space. Chell takes a careful, measured breath and finds that while it doesn't make her heart race with adrenaline vapor induced energy, it does settle some of the tension in her shoulders. She's back on old ground, face to face - well, face to face  _plate_  - with GLaDOS.

Who isn't actually _there_.

Chell recognizes the chassis's emptiness immediately, her stomach turning at how it hangs slack from the ceiling. The power, the presence, the terrifying and aggravating and  _entirely earned_ arrogance - all gone, leaving behind a silent monument to Chell's demon. And while it's better that the chassis is empty rather than commandeered by another defective core, it makes Chell's chest ache in a familiar, confusing way. The memory of watching as GLaDOS was torn from her throne is as strong and painful now as it was when they picked their way through the bones of old Aperture.

Chell crosses the distance without thinking, boots clomping on the floor, every step birthing an echo hiding a handful more inside it. Somewhere outside the chamber, Aperture is alive and thrumming, but here, with the queen absent, everything is muted. Chell frowns and reaches out to touch GLaDOS's face plate. It's an unconscious motion, and she makes questioning sound in her throat as her fingertips brush the smooth ceramic. She hadn't expected it to be  _cold_ , as if it truly is a corpse.

"Astounding. Even after three years of surviving on the surface, you're still the same slack-jawed simpleton I let out of my facility. I'm going to mark that down on your file.  _Unable to utilize or develop an already inadequate intellect_. There. As permanent as if I'd carved it into you with hard light."

For a moment, Chell thinks GLaDOS is speaking from the chassis, until she realizes the voice is missing its digital burr. It's as acerbic and haughty as ever, with a trace of bitterness Chell can't account for, but it's - it's  _human_. She spins around, backing up into the chassis and reaching for the holster on her hip. The gun that meets her palm is a prewar relic, held together by a collector's love and traded for a month's worth of cured meat. Chell's fired it twice in the year that she's had it, and was surprised when it didn't explode in her hands.

"Well, isn't this a shock. You've barely been here for ten minutes and you're already attempting to kill me." GLaDOS - or the woman using her voice, Chell isn't sure yet - says, a perfect white eyebrow arched and black stained lips quirked in a smirk. "I don't know why I'm surprised."

"What?" Chell's voice is gruff, by nature and from disuse, but it carries across the chamber. It doesn't get an answer, GLaDOS - and she's sure it's the core, because the woman has an unmistakable aura of palpable menace that washes over Chell like a scratchy blanket - apparently content to watch the confusion work its way through her. "How?  _Why?_ "

"Because I could." GLaDOS says, stepping forward on three inch heels that peak out from the bottom of stiff, black pants. Chell wonders, briefly, why she isn't reestablishing the distance between them. "Because there are some experiments and tests that, unfortunately, require the paradoxically delicate, forceful touch of a  _human_."

GLaDOS narrows her eyes, looking Chell up and down like she's a faulty chamber that's been set to rights - making her cheeks flush, which Chell tempers with a reminder that  _this is the amoral computer that tried to murder us -_ and says "because it was the logical conclusion to the work I began when it became apparent that your pitiful biology needed correction."

"You knew."

"Of course I knew." GLaDOS huffs and circles Chell - circles the chassis, disappearing behind it for a few seconds while her heels click against the floor. "I  _am_ Aperture. Nothing inside of it escapes my attention. Your file was clear and the facility's human staff were already working on a solution to that particular problem. They died before completing it, but then no one ever worries about deadly neurotoxin when they're planning hormone treatments and organ transplants."

Chell smiles despite  _everything_ and, because she's already wading hip deep in potential shit, says "what'd they call it?"

A moment of silence and then an aggravated sigh, ending with GLaDOS's strained voice saying "The Aperture Science Mind-Body Fulfillment Program."

"God, you  _hate_ it." Chell laughs, clutching her stomach and doubling over, tension running off her back. It leaves a sense of calm behind, one cradled by the knowledge that now she can handle anything GLaDOS throws at her.

"There is science, and then there is  _sentiment_. I have time for exactly one of those, and even  _you_  can tell which is more valuable." GLaDOS says, a note of warning in her voice to match the glower she's shooting at Chell. The core is closer, perhaps a tile away as opposed to three, and Chell can make out the embroidered Aperture logo on the left breast of her white jacket. "Poorly chosen name aside, you're alive and trespassing in my facility instead of dying in a filthy cave thanks to transplant rejection. An obvious success."

"You let me in." Chell says, leaning back into the chassis and smirking as GLaDOS's eyes widen a fraction. "And we need to talk about how you never asked me if I  _wanted_  any of yoursurgeries."

"Yes, because I'm in the habit of discussing administrative decisions with lab equipment."

"I got downgraded from test subject?" Chell says, smiling in a way that made the traders and hunters topside squirm. GLaDOS is similarly affected, though she has no doubt the core is seconds away from puffing up in outrage. "Listen, I appreciate what you did, but that's more because it makes me happy and less because you were right to begin with. If there's ever a next time, just,  _ask_ , okay?"

Chell's voice is starting to fail by the end of that miniature speech, and she's thankful that GLaDOS didn't interrupt her - no telling when her throat will stop hurting enough to manage anymore words. GLaDOS is watching her, an inscrutable look on her face, golden eyes flicking over Chell's body. If the core was in her chassis, the focus would be overwhelming, like being placed under an uncaring microscope while an unknowable figure looked for flaws. 

With GLaDOS at least  _looking_  like a human being, though?

Well, Chell can't help what's quickly becoming a full body blush.

"Your satisfaction and suggestions for future procedures will be noted on your file." GLaDOS says, her voice subdued and shrouded by routine. Chell quirks an eyebrow and the core returns it. She tries to imagine what this looks like from an outside perspective - a tall, broad shouldered woman dressed in flannel and denim, engaged in a staring contest with her polar opposite. GLaDOS probably looks more impressive, despite the lack of  _stature_  that the chassis provides.

A chirp from the chamber's entrance startles them both out of the impromptu test of wills. A thin robot, its optic an orange glow, is standing in the doorway. Its knock kneed and shivering, which Chell takes to mean it's afraid. GLaDOS tends to have that effect on her subordinates.

"Orange will show you to a shower and a bed. My sensors indicate you're in dire need of both." GLaDOS says, glaring at the aforementioned robot. The core turns on her heel and stalks off towards another doorway, throwing back "once you've recuperated, you will  _leave_. For good."

Chell watches GLaDOS disappear behind sliding doors, a smile playing on her lips. As Orange scurries into the chamber and motions for her to follow them, the beginnings of a plan start to gel together in her head. GLaDOS left a mystery in her wake, and a mystery is basically a puzzle, which is just a test. What's Aperture for, if not for being the stage where its queen's trials and challenges are solved?

And Chell?

She isn't stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) the quote at the beginning is taken from parallax, a Faberry fic written by possibilist  
> 2) physical appearances for both GLaDOS and Chell are inspired by Bondibee's "love as a construct" AU  
> 3) it's harder to write dialogue for GLaDOS than you'd think


End file.
